A Revised History of Hogwarts
by Madoka
Summary: History is written by the winners. This is my take on what might really have happened. It's my first attempt at a lengthy 'fic, so please RR! [Incomplete]
1. Chapter 01

A Revised History of Hogwarts  
Chapter 1

The sky was a dismal gray as the students made their way up the great stone stairs, led by a slight woman in her mid-30s with long brown hair and very sharp fingernails. "Come along, now," she called back, swaying her lantern back and forth to make sure she hadn't lost any of the students. This generation of students would define the character of the entire school; this was one of the first classes to attend the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

The school was founded in 987 when four colleagues decided that it would be in the best interest of the wizarding world to form a school in Britain for the education of young witches and wizards. It was now 990, and it seemed that the experiment might actually work, drawing on the methods of the other wizarding schools in Europe combined with their own ideas on how to develop the youth of British Wizardry. However, in the third year of operation, all was not well among the founders; Salazar Slytherin detested the other founders' acceptance of Muggle-borns into the school. He and his students increasingly drew away from the rest of the academy, and rumors spread about the castle that Slytherin might separate from Hogwarts and form his own school. 

So as the students returned to school the fourth year, tension was high, especially between Slytherin and Gryffindor. The new students filed slowly through the great oak doors, shaking off their cloaks and looking around, squinting against the dim torch light. The little woman, Professor Ravenclaw, lead the children through another set of large double doors, into a huge brightly-lit hall with five long wooden tables full of waiting students. The one at the front of the room was full of prim-looking teachers, and there was a little three-legged stool stood near the head table. Bernhard's eyes took a few moments to adjust to the light, and he looked around nervously at the other students. This was his first year at Hogwarts; he had spent his first three years of school at Durmstrang, but his parents didn't approve of the curriculum there so he was transferred to the nearer school. Since he was older than the first years he was allowed to travel with the other fourth years, but he had to wait in the entryway to enter and be sorted with the other new students. He didn't seem to be alone as an older new student, though; there was a girl about his age with long black hair standing near the edge of the group, quietly chatting with a boy who looked like her younger brother. 

"Good evening, everyone!" boomed a voice from the front of the room, at what Bernhard thought was the head table. Everyone was silent and turned to see a tall, broad Saxon man in a striking red tunic and red robes standing before the center chair of the head table. "I would like to welcome you to another productive year at Hogwarts. Before I bore you with my mindless blather, we will commence with the Sorting Ceremony." The older students cheered some, but all the new students just stood as if glued to the floor, as they had no idea what to expect. Prof. Ravenclaw stood, bearing a scroll and a tall, pointed black hat. She stood beside the little stood, primly unrolled the scroll and called out the first name, "Alderton, Willis!" 

Willis, a boy about a year older than Bernhard, strutted toward the front of the room. He took his seat, and as the hat was lowered it barely touched his hair when it called out "SLYTHERIN!" Willis smirked as all of Slytherin cheered for him, and he found a seat at their table. 

"Baddock, Bernhard!" 

Bernhard barely heard his name being called. He looked quickly at the banners on the walls and had a sinking feeling. He really didn't think he'd want to be in Slytherin. He walked up slowly, shaking a little, and when the hat was set on his head he heard a little squeaky voice in his ear. 

"Well, good ev'ning," the voice said, making Bernhard start. 

"Who're you?" he almost said, but the voice replied just as he thought it. 

"I'm the Sorting Hat. I really need to make up a song to let everyone know that, I don't want you new students to be so nervous..." 

"Well, which house should I be in?" 

"Well, you're very intelligent, and that's what Rowena--I mean, Prof. Ravenclaw-looks for. But then, you are also a very hard worker, a good Hufflepuff trait. I think you'll be... a HUFFLEPUFF!" 

Bernhard sighed, relieved. He found a seat at the Hufflepuff table, which looked very bare with only fifteen other students, and tried to pay attention to the rest of the sorting ceremony. However, he lost track of what was happening about the time Algotte Fletcher became the newest Slytherin 

In all, there were twenty-six new students this year, six other new Hufflepuffs and six to every other house except Gryffindor which had seven. The girl his age was sorted into Gryffindor, and her name was Helena. 

Then there was the feast. The long table was piled high with enough mutton and mincemeat pies, pudding, venison, breads and beer to feed the entire school enough to burst, and more kept on appearing. By the time it was over, Bernhard was quite ready to sleep off this overfilling. The headmaster made a few announcements; the forest to the east of the castle was off-limits to students. Bernhard didn't catch any of the others. 

Professor Hufflepuff cheerily lead her House back to their common room, the staircase to which was off the entryway. Outside the door there was a statue of a man clad in chainmail and bearing a large battleaxe. As Prof. Hufflepuff approached, the statue started to move, startling Bernhard. 

"Whart's the password?" the statue demanded. 

"Faerie lights," Prof. Hufflepuff stated clearly to the statue, and the figure nodded and moved out of the way of the small oak door. 

"Girl's dormitories are to the right, boys to the left," Prof. Hufflepuff said, motioning. "You'll find your things already in your rooms, and you will be with your year. Schedules will be delivered to you at breakfast! Good night, all!" she called to all the sleepy students. She giggled; this was one of the funny parts of running a school. When they had all disappeared into their stairwells, she turned and left, heading for the staff quarters. 

The staff common room was fairly small, with several long wooden benches surrounding the area around the fireplace. There was only one staff member still awake, and he was sitting on the floor by the fire, huddled over his next lesson. He glanced up at her as Helga entered the room. 

"Good evening, Salazar," Helga said casually, pacing toward her quarters. 

"Evening, Hufflepuff," replied Slytherin. 

Helga's staterooms were fairly warm when she entered, just the way she liked. After over three years, the house elves had finally learned that it was okay to use up firewood in September. 

She stepped lightly to her bedroom. Her pet cat, Laurel, was curled up on her large four-poster bed. Helga shooed the cat away and closed the door behind her, pulling off her robes. Unlacing the bodice of her dress, she sat down on her bed, took her wand out of a satchel attached to her belt and said "Flamma." The lamp on her little oak bedside table lit, and she flicked her wand to cause the pitcher on the washstand to pour some water into the basin. She washed her hands, arms and face at the basin and crawled into bed, turning off the lamp. 

Crawling in between her magically heated covers, Helga thought of the day she'd had. This was the largest class the school had ever had, and by some strangeness, each of the houses were equal. She had seven new students in her own house, one fourth year and six first years, and she was pleased to note that many of them were Muggle-born. 

She quickly fell asleep, but a few hours later she woke, hearing the great wooden door to her room open and soft footsteps across the room to her bed. The covers near her lifted and her husband slid into bed beside her, wrapping one arm around her waist. 

"Long night?" asked Helga, leaning her head back against his shoulder. 

"As always. The older students' essays are, as always, sub-par," he replied, tightening his hold on her. "And the Gryffindor students are shameful." 

"You always say that, but none of the houses are any better in my class than any of the others. You're just biased," she said. 

He sighed. "It doesn't matter, anyway. I have control over my own house and everyone is happy that way." 

* * *

The dorm room Bernhard supposed was his based on the "Third and Fourth Year" sign above the door was a square room, about as big as the cottage his parents family lived in, placed at the beginning of a long hallway on the left side of the yellow-and-black common room. There were two canopy beds, each with a desk and washstand, and Bernhard's small trunk and cauldron were placed on the floor, and the cage containing his small tawny owl named Nimuae on a desk by the window. There was also a little washstand by his bed, and a lit fireplace in the wall opposite the door. 

He set to unpacking his few things; his wand was in a little pouch on his belt, along with a few coins his family had sent with him. Unpacking his books, he noticed a little note folded up on his desk with a yellow wax seal bearing the Hufflepuff crest. The note read: 

_Dear Mr. Baddock,  
It is regretful that you are the only fourth-year young man in hour house. As such, we have placed you with the only Hufflepuff third-year, Mr. James Lockhart. I hope that you will become fast friends, and that the coming years will bless us with more young transfers your age.  
Humbly yours,  
Helga Hufflepuff  
Head of Hufflepuff House  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

The oak door quickly creaked opened and in waltzed a young man, not much younger than Bernhard. "Well hullo there!" the boy said, stretching out his hand. "My name's James. And you are…?" 

"Bernhard. Bernhard Baddock," he replied, shaking James' hand. 

"You third year or what?" James asked, turning to unpack his trunk. He had a loud, screeching cat in a basket on his desk, who he let out. The cat immediately bolted for Nimuae's cage, and the two stared at each other. 

Taking a seat on his bed, he answered, "No, I'm a fourth year." 

"Uhm. What school did ye go to?" 

"Durmstrang." 

"Uhm." 

There was an awkward pause, so Bernhard drew the curtains around his bed and took off his robes, crawling under the covers. 

* * *

Bernhard mostly kept to himself the next morning. James spent is time at breakfast talking to his friends, a couple of younger guys named Zane and Marcus and one of the girls his age, Theresa. Bernhard's first two classes of the day were to be Herbology in the Sunroom with Gryffindor, then Potions in the dungeons with all his year. He didn't have any idea where these places were, so he found the girls in his house and followed them as they chattered on about various things, a couple of times trying to make small talk with Bernhard ("Have you heard about the Field Day we're having in a few weeks?"… "No…what's a Field Day?"… "I don't know…"). 

The girls, whose names were Elizabeth and Isabella, lead him through the Great Hall to an anteroom, and from there into a sunroom where their first class of the day was to be held. Prof. Hufflepuff was sitting in the midst of a bunch of pots with strange, purplish plants which kept on shaking, and shook harder when a student went near them. 

"Good morning, students!" Prof. Hufflepuff said. "I'll ask that you all take a seat on one of those benches there," she continued, motioning to some benches down the middle row. Bernhard ended up sitting next to Helena, which was not at all to his disliking. 

"Hullo," Helena whispered to him as everyone else shuffled to a find a seat. "I'm Helena Potter. What's your name?" 

"B-Bernhard Baddock," he said, unable to make eye contact for more than a moment. 

"Well then, now that everyone has a seat," Prof. Hufflepuff continued, her voice echoing softly through the sunroom, "our first job as a class is to prune these Flutterby plants. Everyone, take a pair of dragon hide gloves; these things can get violently angry if you don't have the right touch." 

Everyone got up again and picked up a pair of gloves and Prof. Hufflepuff cheerily said, "now, everyone pair up. Our numbers are even, so I want everyone to find someone from a different house, just so we can get to know each other." 

"Want to work with me?" Helena asked him, touching his arm with a dragon hide glove-covered hand. Bernhard nodded numbly, and the two claimed the nearest Flutterby shrub. 

Prof. Hufflepuff stood up in front of the class beside her own pot with a shrub in it. "Now, the way you prune a Flutterby plant is this;" she began, demonstrating to the class, "you find a dead or dying, brownish- or bluish-colored leaf, grasp its stock firmly and wait for the leaf to fall off. Everybody got it?" 

Helena wrinkled her nose in disgust. "That's barbaric," she said, looking at the slightly shaking bush warily. 

"That's nothing, Bernhard replied, trying to sound casual. "My education at Durmstrang only advanced my knowledge of how to do things by violently severing it with a knife, eating it and hoping it doesn't kill me." Bernhard had grown up in Norse country surrounded by Vikings who were afraid of any magics they didn't believe their gods directly performed and Christian priests who called them foul and thought them to exist only to bewitch the local Muggles. This had not taught Bernhard how most European wizards operated in their daily lives. 

"I see you have a lot to learn," Helena said, slipping on her gloves. 

By the time class was over, their plant had put up a terrific fight against the students. Bernhard's education at Durmstrang had paid off; unlike Helena, he wasn't afraid to grab the plant and hold it firmly so that it couldn't shake its leaves violently enough for no one to see its dead leaves. Meanwhile Prof. Hufflepuff's Flutterby plant was softly cooing as she gently removed its few dying two-lobed leaves. 

Now Bernhard followed the class on to the dungeons for his first Potions class. This was a subject which he'd excelled at when he attended Durmstrang, which wasn't surprising. His father was one of the great potions masters in northern Europe, and he'd invented a few of the more complicated potions, including the treatment for basins used in the new upscale novelty called Penseives. Bernhard's father had passed much of his talent and knowledge on to his son. 

These dungeons were very much like most of the Durmstrang castle; damp and cool with low ceilings, and for some strange reason torch light didn't carry as well as it did in any other part of the castle. The students filed into the Potions classroom chatting quietly. Bernhard was glad to see that his cauldron had been brought here and was sitting with a bunch of others in the back of the classroom, since he'd forgotten it, and he had heard of snippets of conversations which didn't make him think their Potions master would be very forgiving of slackers. 

Bernhard took a seat near the front of the classroom. He placed his mortar and pestle in the upper-right-hand corner of his desk, his very sharp knife in the middle, and his plain pewter cauldron to the left. 

A door on the right side of the room, probably leading to the professor's office, creaked open, and a tall, dark man in a white shirt, black trousers and a black vest with long black robes appeared. He walked behind his desk and looked around the classroom. "Ah," he began with his smooth, slightly hissing voice, "I see we have new students for the fourth years this year." He looked to a parchment on his desk. "A miss... Helena Potter, and Mr. Bernhard Baddock." The teacher looked to each of them as he said their names. "I am to be your Potions master, Professor Salazar Slytherin." 

Bernhard nodded and looked the professor in the eye. He wasn't sure he trusted this man, but he wasn't sure why he shouldn't. 

"Mr. Baddock," Prof. Slytherin said, "would your father happen to be Sherman Baddock?" 

Bernhard nodded his head and said briefly "Yes." 

Touching his narrow chin, Professor Slytherin said, "Ah, your father is an acquaintance of mine. But on to our lesson." He continued, "This morning we will be learning the properties of a basic wit-sharpening potion. Please remember to take notes, all, I do not wish to repeat myself..." 

Bernhard felt a poke in his back, and he reached behind him to take the note when Professor Slytherin looked away. The note read: 

_>Excuse me, but what are you doing reading notes in class?_

"Mr. Baddock," Professor Slytherin said, sharply hitting his wand against Bernhard's desk, "but if you will not give me the courtesy of paying attention in class, would you please answer a simple question?" 

"O-of course, Professor," Bernhard said, a little nervous. 

"What are the main ingredients of the wit-sharpening potion we are supposed to be learning about today?" 

"Ground scarab beetle, uhm, armadillo bile and g-ginger root," Bernhard answered, a little nervous, trying to look the professor straight in the eyes. 

Slytherin looked a little surprised, but didn't break his unpleasant stare. "Thank you, Mr. Baddock," he said simply. 

After class Bernhard headed off for lunch. He was followed there by a bunch of girls who were all chattering and giggling behind him; this was another thing Bernhard wasn't used to. In the village where he grew up, no one really liked to be near him, probably because they believed he would bring about the wrath of their various gods. 

Bernhard reached the Hufflepuff table and took his seat away from everyone else. He didn't really mind eating alone, that was just routine for him; at Durmstrang, everyone made fun of him for being Nordic, and he never thought himself to have a dynamic enough personality to have any actual friends. 

After lunch he found his way back to the common room, where he claimed a comfortable seat by the fireplace. He spread out his parchments in search of his schedule, which said that his afternoon class would be Bestiary with Slytherin. He stayed there until he saw the other fourth-years start to leave, and he followed them out. They again tried to talk to him, but he was preoccupied. 

This class was to be held outside, in a little barn just outside the forest. Bernhard waited just on the edge of the tiny group of students. He saw all the Slytherin kids glancing his way while they talked in their little circle. There were only three of them, like Hufflepuff; two boys, one fairly stocky and dark, with very hairy strong-looking arms, one smaller with yellow hair and sharp blue eyes, and a girl with long plaited black hair tied with a silver ribbon. The blond boy seemed fairly keen on the girl, so Bernhard tried not to look at her much in fear that the little one might sick the big one on him. 

The little door to the barn opened and the teacher, whose features Bernhard couldn't make out in the dimly-lit room beckoned them in. They all entered and took seats in a semicircle surrounding a cage covered with a heavy cloth, and standing in the break of the circle was a little woman, about as tall as a seven-year-old girl. "Good afternoon, class," the woman began with her voice which was much deeper than one would expect from her. "Today we will be studying the Pogrebin. Does anyone know what a Pogrebin is?" 

The Slytherin girl's hand shot up. "Yes, Miss Snape..." the teacher said, as if she'd expected the girl to be the only one to answer. 

"A Pogrebin is a little gray animal resembling a rock which follows people around, making them totally miserable until they give up, at which time the Pogrebin begins to eat them." 

The Hufflepuff girls winced and Miss Snape's eyes flickered to them, a sadistic smile playing on her lips. 

"Very good, Miss Snape. Now, does anyone know where Pogrebin can be found--except for Miss Snape?" 

Bernhard raised his hand slowly. "They're native to Russia, although they can often be found as far west as Norway." 

"Very good, Mr. Baddock," the teacher said. 

Class continued for the next hour. At one point, the professor (who Bernhard later learned was Prof. Fudge) uncovered the cage to reveal a little gray animal covered with thin, downy fur. Fudge explained that this was a baby Pogrebin which wasn't quite powerful enough to depress people yet, but all the class was unnaturally sleepy by the end of it. 

The late afternoon had no other classes, so Bernhard set out to work on his homework. The Hufflepuff common room was very quiet, since all of the first- and second-years were taking their flying lessons then. Bernhard was huddled close to the fire when Isabella and Elizabeth approached him. 

"Are you, er, busy, Bernhard?" Isabella asked him with her faint Italian accent, her green eyes flickering in the firelight. 

Bernhard shook his head "No." 

"Well then," Elizabeth began, "might we sit with you? We're working on our Potions homework and we were practicing the potion, but something's wrong and we don't know what." 

"Of course," Bernhard accepted, and he made space for the girls by shoving his papers away. 

* * *

That evening at dinner, Bernhard sat between Isabella and James with Elizabeth across from him. This was a very strange thing for the boy, and they kept on talking to him, asking him questions about where he was from. Apparently all of them grew up in all-wizarding communities; Isabella was from a prefecture of Venice, James from a village outside London, and Elizabeth from some part of France. They all thought it was fascinating that any of the Christian priests would speak to him at all; where they were all from, the priests either didn't know or acknowledge that wizards and magic existed, or they believed wizards such evil spirits that if you contacted one you would be condemned. 

After dinner Bernhard was very tired, so he made his way to his room without stopping to talk to the others in the common room. He made ready for bed, but as he drew his curtains James came in and looked at him strangely. "I heard tell you were passing notes with that Slytherin girl," James said. 

"I didn't know who passed it to me," replied Bernhard, very confused as to why this would be such a terrible thing. "And what's wrong with her?" 

"It isn't her, it's Slytherin. Anyone who gets sent to that House is bad, and even though Lucina Snape may be pretty or whatever, that's no reason to have anything to do with her, or any of them." 

Bernhard could see that James wouldn't be swayed in this opinion, so he simply agreed not to talk to Lucina. He'd already decided not to invoke the wrath of the blond Slytherin boy, anyway, so it wasn't difficult. 

* * *

"Salazar, please don't let him get to you," Helga said gently, holding her husband's hand. "I don't want you to have another argument with him. It isn't worth it." 

"Of course you're right. But sometimes, he just--the idea that I can't even run my own part of the school!" He exhaled deeply and leaned back into the cushions on the bench. "It isn't that I hate Muggle-borns, but... well, I want our race to be able to survive without them. The Christians are turning the world against us, and if we have too many of them in our number, who knows what chaos will they bring!" 

Helga leaned her head against his shoulder, sighing. "I understand, but I don't agree, you know that. Just keep calm, Salazar; everything will be okay if you just don't get yourself in more trouble with him." 

Slytherin laughed bitterly. "Look at me; left to whimper at the feet of the man who turned against me, my students are for the most part hopelessly stupid, and my own wife refuses to let the others know our position. Not even her best friend." 

"Well, you know how Rowena would react. She thinks you to be the embodiment of evil. That chamber you built doesn't help matters much, either; you know someone will take your message wrong and turn it against you, if anyone learns of that place and what it's there for." 

"That is true, and my Basilisk going mad didn't help matters much. Three Muggle-born students in two weeks..." 

"...Poor dears..." 

"I hope that no one finds the way down there." 

* * *


	2. Chapter 02

A Revised History of Hogwarts  
Chapter 2

It had been almost a week since the school year began, and it seemed that it might be a good year for Helena, after all. She'd made a lot of new friends, mostly in her own house but some from Ravenclaw, although the girls from Hufflepuff were never very nice to her during Herbology. It was almost as if they were jealous of her or something, which was craziness; Helena was very bad at the subject. It wasn't very emphasized at her previous school, Beauxbatons; there, they believed that the center of magic was in charms and spells, and everything else just supplemented that.

Her mornings were all spent the same; she would go out for a run, on which she would sometimes meet that kid from Hufflepuff, she thought Bernhard was his name, but she couldn't be sure. He was nice and all, but the way he always looked at her made her feel sort of…well, looked at. He was a little strange, but he was always good about putting Prof. Slytherin in his place without being obstinate. Helena herself liked Prof. Slytherin more than her friends did, but she'd never tell them that.

After her run she would have breakfast, always with her new friends Mathilde and Sarah. They were room mates, being in the same year, and they did most everything together; in class they always partnered up (except in Herbology where Prof. Hufflepuff liked them to mix it up a bit) and they went to meals and studied together. Still, Helena wished she could try out being with people from the other houses, but she supposed that Mathilde and Sarah couldn't handle it so she rarely tried.

Overall, she enjoyed her time here. People were less pretentious at Hogwarts that Beauxbatons, which made sense because tuition was much lower and acceptance was never based on how much money a family could donate to the school.

Helena's favorite place to get away from her friends was the Library. There weren't too many books there, mainly because too few wizards had caught on to the idea of the printing press because Muggles didn't know about them yet. But the Librarian, Mrs. Combs, was still a lunatic about keeping the four or five students who ever went there silent. It was on the way to this place of solace when Helena started to round the corner when she heard the voices of two of her professors, and it didn't sound like the sort of conversation she'd want to walk in on.

"If you cannot bend to our concept of how the school should be run, then why should we bend to yours?"

"Because I have the power to run my part of the school as I see fit. Why, if I pose no threat to you-"

"No threat! Your blasted snake almost killed three of my students-"

"And he cannot access any more of your precious Muggle-borns. He was not raised to do this, you know that. And all of the children were returned to their proper state before the end of the holidays."

A pause.

"Salazar, if you think that makes up for your constant undermining of-"

"Of what? You knew that this is what I believe in, and now that it's becoming a reality you cannot accept it. Face facts, Godric; you're stepping out-of-bounds, and I do have the power to resist your rule."

"Get out of my sight, Slytherin."

Helena turned and ran down the corridor to hide from her professors; she knew that she shouldn't have heard any of that. What was that about students almost being killed by a snake? What would happen if the school was to split up! She didn't want to think about it, but their words kept on flickering into her mind. _The school is in trouble..._

She was so preoccupied that she didn't notice Bernhard walking down the hall toward her. "Helena, would you like to walk to-"

"Hi, Bernhard," she said quickly.

"-Lunch with me…" He sighed and turned back down the hall after her. His stomach was growling, and he could feel something more ebbing away at him from inside.

On the way he passed Prof. Hufflepuff, who was cheerily carrying a fresh box of dragonskin gloves to the sunroom. "Hullo, Mr. Baddock," she greeted him. "I really would stay and chat, but Prof. Slytherin needs these right away; he's offered to help me mend them, you see."

"Oh, I would be happy to help you carry those, Prof. Hufflepuff," Bernhard started, almost reaching for the box.

"No! Oh, I mean, thank you, but no," replied the woman, freeing one hand for a moment to brush some blond hair out of her face. "You should get on to breakfast."

"Yes, Prof. Hufflepuff," Bernhard replied, and he continued down the hall. This, too, was unusual where he grew up; no upper-class woman ever did manual labor for which she wasn't paid directly if a man or older boy were present, it was unseemly.

Bernhard continued down the hall as Prof. Hufflepuff regained her composure. She was very easily frazzled, and at this point she just wanted to go have a lie-down in her rooms, although she couldn't. There were preparations to be made for the next class, and as she quickly strode down the hall she remembered the Nautae plants she hadn't set out yet.

Helga stepped lightly down the stairs to the dungeons, hating the fact that Salazar had chosen this awful place for his part of the school, but grateful that it was quite close to the Hufflepuff common room and staff quarters.

She strolled through the Potions classroom as five or six house elves quickly scrubbed the students' cauldrons to return them to their dorm rooms. Helga had always thought that the house elves were overworked, but she never said so.

Opening the door to his office, Helga felt a rush of warm air. At least he's down here, she thought, stepping inside. A fire was lit in the fireplace, and Salazar's large wooden chair was sitting at an angle in front of it, his arm sitting sedately on the armrest. She closed the door behind her and set the box down quietly on his desk, then moved to the side of his chair. He was awake, and hissing quietly to a little garter snake he had coiled up on his hand.

"What's she saying?" Helga whispered to her husband.

Salazar waited for the snake to finish its thought then replied, "I've had her read the staff notes on the bulletin, and she is reciting them to me. Her education is coming along very nicely," he said, gently brushing the snake between the eyes. "I think it's time for a rest now," he continued as he stood to place the snake on the mantle of his fireplace.

"Oh!" Helga exclaimed, "I have something for you to look at." Curious, Salazar watched at his wife rifled through the box she'd brought with her, tossing aside torn dragonhide gloves until she brought out a rolled-up piece of parchment. Unrolling it, Helga said, "Do you know what this is?"

"Of course I don't," Salazar replied coolly. Sometimes his wife could drag things out a little too much.

She tapped her wand on the page and said, "_Catapultam habeo_."

A floor plan of Hogwarts appeared on the page with tiny little dots scurrying about on it. "What is this...?" Salazar asked, holding the parchment up for a closer look. "Where did you get it?"

"Omar has been working on it for some time now, for Gryffindor. He thinks our Headmaster wants to spy on some of the more... shifty people in the castle. But as you can see, only people or part-people appear," she said, pointing out that Salazar's friend snake, Penelope, didn't show up on the map.

He uttered a little "hmm," then looked back to Helga. "Sometimes it can be good to have a dark wizard around, if he can come up with tricks such as these and still be willing to betray the one who commissioned him," he said, handing the parchment back to her.

"_Ave_," she said, her wand touched to the parchment, and the paper went blank again. "Now, I'll have to get this back to Omar this afternoon. That's when Gryffindor expects it," she continued, placing the parchment back in the box and putting some of the dragonhide gloves in on top of it.

Salazar took his seat again in the large wooden chair and his wife followed suit, sitting down in his lap and dangling her skirted legs over one arm. He wrapped one arm around her waist and held her close, kissing her cheek gently. "I had another… altercation… with Gryffindor this afternoon," he said, a scowl marring his sharp looks.

"It's like I've always said, you need to control your temper with him," she replied. "I for one do not need my undercover lover to be kicked out of the school. I've grown very fond of some of your students, anyway," she continued, "they so love to learn about poisonous plants and their natural antidotes."

"They're a shifty bunch, though," replied Salazar. "Maybe one or two honest ones in the flock. I'm almost surprised; the Sorting Hat must be biased, as it gives you all the hard-workers, Gryffindor all the bold ones and Ravenclaw all of the very intelligent ones. And what am I left with? The stupid, spineless followers. There are only two students in the bunch who I could bear to place as Prefects next year, and only one of them is old enough."

"Just please do not name that Malfoy boy as a prefect," Helga said firmly. "He's a sadist. He practically strangled one of my Flutterbies a few weeks ago."

"No worries there. I think that Miss Snape will be my prefect; she knows how to handle authority, and she can keep the others in line. Were she but five years older she could keep me in line-"

"Salazar!"

"I'm just saying…" he began, "...how long with it be until we can announce to everybody that we've been married for two years? This arrangement keeps me from living in the same apartment as my own wife."

"I don't know, Salazar, I really don't know. You know that if Godric found out he would have a fit; he would say that I cannot be an impartial judge in anything concerning you and the school, as if he could."

"But then, what should happen if you were with child?"

She looked away from his, staring at her shoes poking out from beneath a plain brown skirt. "I am taking precautions," she said simply.

He realized what he'd done to her and held her closer, moving his lips to gently brush her ear. "Now, don't be like that," he said, "I know what you want. As soon as all of this business with Gryffindor is settled-"

"Oh, don't worry about it, Salazar. I know everything will work out all right in the end."

* * *

That afternoon Bernhard had off of classes, so he decided to take advantage of the last bits of warmth before winter set in. He took with him a long roll of parchment, several quills and his one precious copy of "Potions of the North," the book Bernhard's father taught him out of from the time he was little, and he claimed a little bit of grass under a tree. There were some students in his level, mostly Slytherin and Ravenclaw gathered nearby, but most took no notice of him. He opened to the place where he'd left a leaf from the Flutterby bush of a few weeks ago and began to read, copying the techniques of how to properly take care of an Exploding Fluid spill onto his parchment.

Footsteps padded up to Bernhard, but he hardly noticed the person until they spoke his name.

"Wh-what? Oh, hullo," he said, a little surprised. He looked up to see the fair, sharp face of Lucina Snape, her bright gray eyes burning into his for no apparent reason.

"Aren't you going to ask me to sit down?" she asked him.

"Oh, yes, of course," he said, fumbling to make room for her nearby. She took a seat, a little close for Bernhard's comfort. Suddenly he was aware that some of the Slytherins were looking in their direction and they didn't look very happy.

But Lucina didn't seem to have much interest in Bernhard at all. She just stared back at the Slytherins, but after a few uncomfortable moments, she asked him, "Do you have a bias against Slytherin or something?"

"Of course not," Bernhard said, sounding more sure than he felt. "I mean, your house has never done anything against me-"

"I don't mean you, idiot. I mean Prof. Slytherin. The way you always run him down in class, it's… well, it's earned you the bad side of a lot of my fellow classmates."

"Well... thanks for the warning," Bernhard replied, uncertain of what he should do about it. It wasn't his fault that he was very gifted at what the Slytherins' head-of-house specialized in, was it? Lucina stood and returned to the crowd of students a few meters away, and she was immediately surrounded by all the Slytherins in the group.

"What did you do?" asked Malcolm pointedly, running his fingers through his blond hair like he always did when he felt threatened.

Caitlyn, a girl a little younger than Lucina stood nearby, her arms folded over her chest and a scowl forming on her face. She was immediately pushed out of the way by Jason, who had no tact and didn't hear the girl complain to his very large shoulder. "Yeah, what did you do, Lucy?" he said unintelligently.

"I just warned him, that's all," she said truthfully. "He's not a big enough problem for all of you to get worked up over."

Malcolm roughly took her arm and led her out of the circle, Caitlyn calling after them pointlessly. "You know, he left Durmstrang for this place," Malcolm whispered in her ear. "That probably means that he's a Muggle-lover, just like every other fool at this school."

"Not necessarily," Lucina replied simply.

Malcolm was becoming very angry about the whole situation, so he left her and stormed into the castle. Luckily for all involved, Bernhard had already packed his things and gone inside to the peace of the Hufflepuff common room. Malcolm almost ran down to the dungeons, passing on the way his friend William.

"Nice to see you again, Malfoy!" William called after him, and Malcolm only grunted in reply. "That man would depress a hyena," Will said to himself after Malcolm was out of earshot. He hoisted his satchel of papers higher onto his back and continued down the hall, on his way to a fateful meeting with his head-of-house and, more importantly, his Potions master, Salazar Slytherin. Will had never been much of a student in the past two years, but this was a new low for him. It wasn't entirely his fault; there were extenuating circumstances. For instance, his father had taught him just this last summer how to mix an exploding liquid with goat dung and add a coating to make something he called "Beck's Magick Dung Exploders."

Will entered the classroom and took a seat near the back to wait, as he supposed that his teacher was just running a little late. Not that Slytherin was ever late, but Will could always dream that his teacher was, at that very moment, being eaten alive by Prof. Fudge's pet bicorn.

He waited for a moment and heard voices coming from his professor's office. He got up and knocked twice on the door and called in a phony, hollow voice, "I'm here professor. Where shall I put the jar of bubotubor puss?"

There was a pause, then Prof. Slytherin's strained voice replied, "Blast, Beck, I'll be out there in a moment."

Will was satisfied, so he took his seat back in the back of the room and waited again. Another minute or so passed when Prof. Slytherin emerged from his classroom, black cloak swooping around him. He strode back to the back of the classroom but didn't take a seat; instead he handed Will a slip of parchment.

"You're under academic probation, Mr. Beck," Prof. Slytherin said simply. "All of the details are outlined on that paper. If your grades do not improve within the next month, we will be forced to notify your family, and if you cannot pass the six-week exams you will be placed under disciplinary action. I do suggest that you try to work harder, Mr. Beck," Slytherin said, gritting his teeth, "because I do not want to hand you over to the Headmaster. If you have no questions, I'll bid you good day." With that, Prof. Slytherin turned sharply and returned to his office, leaving a stunned student in his wake.

"Academic probation? Academic probation?" Will repeated in disgust. Leaving the classroom, he said to himself, "That's the sort of thing you put on people for cheating or something, not for your everyday lay-about like myself."

He walked down the dank corridor back to the Slytherin common room where he would drown his sorrows in the stupidity of others. He was very glad to have been put in Slytherin; here he could exercise his lust for making fools out of people while still being one of the more respectable members of society in his House. Still, there were a lot more gullible people in the other houses, Hufflepuff in particular. There wasn't anything Will wouldn't give to learn the Hufflepuff password. Now there's an idea…

Will turned on his heels and ran to the staircase leading out of the dungeons. He took off his ring bearing the face of a snake, the only thing he wore signifying his Slytherin roots, and ran up the flight of stairs, then around a corner up the stairs he knew lead to the Hufflepuff commons. Luckily for him there was a little first-year boy standing outside about to enter. Will ran his fingers through his brown hair and silently followed the boy up to the statue, listening for the password.

"Faerie lights," said the boy, and the statue dodged out of the way to reveal the door. Will peeked in around the boy and saw no one else in the small room, so he waited a moment for the statue to return to its original position.

Will strutted up to the statue and with his best pansy voice said, "Faerie lights." The statue obediently moved out of the way, and Will was very pleased to see an unguarded satchel laying in the corner by the fire. He moved to the satchel and opened his own, taking out three dung exploders and putting them in the strange bag under some parchments and an old, worn copy of "Potions of the North." He heard footsteps coming from behind the door on his left, so he grabbed his own satchel, turned and ran back out of the common room, forgetting to close the other bag.

Bernhard had remembered his satchel left in the common room, so he returned there early to go put it back in his dorm room before dinner. He saw it lying open, and there were three strange-looking brown balls lying inside which smelled foul. He picked up all three balls and pitched them into the fire.

_**BANG!**_

Bernhard flew back from the force as heaps of a terrible brown substance came rushing out of the fireplace. Several of the kids still in their rooms came out to see the commotion, and some of the little second-year boys started to laugh at him. Bernhard sighed and gathered up his soiled satchel, returning to his dorm room for a much-needed cleansing.

* * *

"I am sorry for that interruption, my dear," Salazar said, returning to his office.

"If you needed bubotubor puss," Helga began, "why didn't you just ask me about it?"

Salazar almost smiled as he leaned up against his desk next to his wife, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Sometimes my students drive me mad. That was William Beck, one of the more talented students in his class. The only reason he does not excel in every subject is that he does not wish to. If only there were some way to get through to him…"

"Oh, don't worry too much about it, Salazar. He'll come around eventually." She leaned against his shoulder, her hand tracing a line in his back.

He took one hand and placed it on her chin, tipping her head back as he gently kissed her. She leaned back against the desk further and his hands slipped under her legs to help boost her into a sitting position as he leaned over her more. He wrapped his arms around her waist again and held her closer, saying, "During the Yuletide holidays, come back to London with me."

She looked into his face, into his deep brown eyes. His black hair was lank and falling into his eyes, and she combed her fingers through it as she asked him, "Why?"

"Because... because you're my wife and it's only proper."

"Oh, is that it? I thought it would be nice to stay here over the Solstice. You know, watch over my classes and all that. It will be a week of freedom, and I don't want that to go to the children's heads," she replied, humored.

Salazar sighed. "Please. I just want to be with you where we don't have to hide."

Helga smiled. "Of course I'll go with you! But right now I just need to go have a lie-down. After my bout with the Slytherin and Gryffindor first-years over a fussy batch of weedleweeds, I don't think I'll ever wake up."

Salazar kissed her lightly on the forehead and opened the door for her. Outside, he heard a paint pop, but he ignored it and returned to his work.

* * *


	3. Chapter 03

A Revised History of Hogwarts  
Chapter 3

"Did you hear what happened in the Hufflepuff common room?" an excited Prof. Fudge whispered to her friend, Rowena.

"No, what?" Prof. Ravenclaw queried, adjusting her glasses and glancing down the table past Godric to Helga Hufflepuff.

"Someone set off some exploding dung in the Hufflepuff common room fireplace yesterday before supper," Olivia Fudge explained, picking at her mincemeat pie. "And the only two students in the common room any time around then didn't see anyone there."

"But one of Salazar's students was found leaving the area," Godric added, malice showing through. "A student on academic probation who had just left Salazar's company."

Slytherin turned his attention to the opposite side of the table. "Do not place this on my students, Gryffindor," he hissed, putting his hand down sharply on the solid oak table.

"Now, Salazar, Godric is only saying the facts of the case," Helga told the fuming Slytherin, touching his arm lightly. Gryffindor's eyes glanced to this, but no one else noticed. "He doesn't mean any harm."

Turning away from the main body of conversation, Slytherin muttered, "Of course." He returned to his low conversation with Prof. Stout concerning the Christian's monastic practices, and Helga wasn't worried. She thought that this incident wouldn't turn into anything serious.

* * *

The next couple of weeks passed without incident. Salazar and Godric seemed to be at an impasse; neither would outright say it, but they were both waiting for the day that war would break out, possibly splitting the school in two.

Rumors were spreading around the castle about the potential break, although most seemed to believe that it was Slytherin threatening to defect. Almost as popular to discuss was the upcoming "Field Day" for all students above the first year. Many people had their theories; Marcus Vector, a second year in Bernhard's house believed that they would be sent into a Muggle village to test their abilities to conceal themselves. Most people thought that was idiocy, though, and believed that they would simply be gnome hunting in the eastern forest or something mundane like that.

Will spent his days pretending to do schoolwork while hitting on the Ravenclaw girls. He knew that if he just glanced at his books before lessons he could coast by on native intelligence, and he wasn't too worried about Slytherin putting him on "disciplinary action." It would satisfy the Headmaster too much to have a Slytherin student suffering, so he knew his professor would come through in the end.

One afternoon as he drifted along through the dungeon corridors on his way to a Charms lesson with the irrepressible Prof. Kharuma, a mild-mannered Arab man built like a bird who walked with a tremendous, nimble gait, he thought he saw a bit of green nip through the space under the door to the Potions classroom. That's interesting, thought Will. I have enough time to get to Charms… Will ventured to open the door and stepped inside, his eyes searching the floor for the snake. The creatures always fascinated him, so his natural desire was to capture it and keep it as a pet.

He was dismayed when the animal slipped under the door to Slytherin's office. He turned and started to leave when he heard a commotion from the little room, and he listened for a moment to the hurried voices of two people. The great oak door creaked open and out paced Prof. Slytherin, pulling on his heavy cloak with Prof. Hufflepuff at his heels.

His teachers saw Will right away. "Go to class, boy," he spat, a deep scowl on his face. William ran out the door, wanting to seem like he was going to do his teacher's bidding. No, Slytherin's too smart for that, he told himself after he thought to follow them. I would never get away with it.

A younger student rounded the corner, and a shameless smile spread on Will's face. But little brothers could.

"Zihk!" Will called, beckoning the child to him. "I want you to do something for me."

"Will I get in trouble?" the child asked, scratching his brown head of hair. "Mama told me not to do what you say if it'll get me in trouble."

"Don't worry, Zihk," Will said, glad that his brother wasn't very intelligent. "If you get in trouble, just start to cry and tell the teachers that you're lost. You remember, I taught you how to cry so not even Mama can tell you're faking it."

"Okay, Will," his brother agreed. "What do I have to do?"

"Follow those two teachers down there," Will said, pointing down the hall in the direction Hufflepuff and Slytherin had disappeared. "Profs. Hufflepuff and Slytherin." Will saw his little brother's face flush, the sign that he was scared. "Don't worry, Zihk, Slytherin isn't that bad. He would never do something to a student in his own house."

Zihk sniffed. "It isn't Prof. Slytherin, it's Prof. Hufflepuff. She's always really nice to me. I don't want to make her mad."

"Now don't worry about that, kid," Will groaned, growing impatient. "Just do what I tell you and it'll be fine. Just follow them, remember what they say to each other and leave as soon as they see you or go somewhere you shouldn't. Now go!"

Will knew he could trust his brother to find the two teachers, even when they had such a huge head start. Zihk wasn't very smart, or cute, or competent, but if he had anything going for him in the business of deceit, it was his tracking abilities. Back home in Prussia, Will could always trust Zihk to find the goats when they wandered off the meadows. _I'm like a freakin' Muggle goatboy,_ Will thought to himself, almost disgusted.

* * *

"Hush! Good… good evening, everyone!" Helga called in the Hufflepuff common room, standing on a low stool so that they could see her easily. "I have an announcement for you!"

Eventually the students calmed down and wandered into the circle of kids seated around her, whispering and chattering excitedly. Finally the last few children took their seat and Helga began to speak again, quieting them. "First, I would like to let everybody know about the upcoming Field Day. We will be randomly dividing all students above first year into inter-house teams--"

At this the chatter rose up again, but Helga continued, "and completing a mock-assignment somewhere in Britain. This will cover three days, so I'm not sure why it would be called a 'Field Day,' but it should be lots of fun. Tomorrow morning when you break your fast, you will receive a notice telling you which group you are in, and next week Friday, Saturday and Sunday will be spent on your projects. Good night, everyone!" she finished, stepping lightly off the stool. Students talked around her as she left, and some tried to find out what the projects would be ("Will we be practicing against Boggarts?"), but she just left giggling to the students that they would just have to wait to find out.

* * *

"What team are you in?" Caitlyn asked, leaning over to see Will's parchment. "I'm in, uhm… Dominus," the girl added, her brown hair falling into her eyes.

Will looked at his paper for the first time in while sitting in the back of Prof. Stout's history class. He leaned back over to Caitlyn when Stout had his back turned and whispered back, "Pilchre."

"You in Pilchre? Me too," Theresa Kellor whispered to Will, who was sitting behind her.

"Well, at least I know I won't get bored," Will whispered back, leaning quite close to the girl and breathing lightly on her neck. Most people when they first met him would think he was either in love or perverted, but Theresa and most of the other girls his age in the school had learned to take his advances lightly.

By the end of History of Magic, everyone knew who else in the third year would be with whom amongst the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. Will paced out of the classroom with his hands tucked casually in his pockets and Caitlyn at his elbow. Caitlyn and Yvette, the two girls Will's age in Slytherin, were chatting on about something or other which didn't really interest Will.

They had a Potions lesson that afternoon, so Will and his cohorts returned to their dorms for their cauldrons, mortar and pestle and their notes. It was growing colder outside, and the dungeons were changing accordingly, so many of the students were donning their heavy cloaks just for the walk to the Potions classroom. The corners of the common room were being abandoned for the warmth of the fireplace, and when most of the space around the fire was taken many students were opting to do their homework in their dorm rooms with their small private fireplaces.

When Will reached his dorm, he grabbed his little cauldron, tossed his other things into his book bag and headed out. The fourth-year guys next door were asleep and had left their door half-open, their snores echoing down the hall into the common room. As Will passed by, he shouted into their room very loudly, "Shut it, Malfoy!"

His only response was Malcolm Malfoy's face poking out from behind his green curtains, sneering at him. Will smiled back and sauntered out into the common room, then out into the hallway.

The Potions classroom was buzzing with all of the third-year students, still figuring out who would be in a team with whom. Will wasn't at all interested in this, so he claimed his usual seat in the center row, two seats to the right, and waited for his usual partner to arrive. Caitlyn sat behind him, with Yvette to her left and Lawrence to her right, and in front of Will was a solid row of the four Gryffindors; Laura, Robert, James and Timothy. These were the only members of his class he'd never really been able to talk to; they treated him with as much disdain as he did his little brother's earthworm farm. Three of them were very pretentious, only associating with other Gryffindors; the fourth, Timothy, would probably be an all right sort if he stopped thinking about what the others would think of him.

To Will's left sat the Hufflepuffs, all four talking together with the Ravenclaws sitting in front of them more loudly than anyone else dared. The Slytherins had seen their head-of-house earlier that day, and he was in a particularly foul mood.

There were only two people missing from this class, besides their teacher; Evelyn MacMarrow, the only Ravenclaw Will had any liking for, and Theresa Kellor.

The door slid open and Evelyn strode into the busy classroom. A few eyes turned to her as she took her seat next to Will.

"So how's it going, Eve?" he asked her, smiling. "You looking forward to this three-day 'Field Day' thing?"

"I don't know," Eve replied. "You know there's nothing I like more than purposeless assignments that take me away from my studies," she said cynically, taking her supplies out of her satchel.

The door to Slytherin's office groaned open and Prof. Slytherin quickly treaded out to the front of the class. He was carrying a stack of papers and quickly handed out the graded essays from the last lesson.

"As I had anticipated," the boorish man began, "most of you have earned abysmal scores on your essays. I expect all of you who earned less than seventy percent on this essay to spend your free time this evening working on a new, twelve-inch makeup essay on the same subject, taking particular care in the areas of proper Saddleworm preparation which I have marked in red on your papers."

The class groaned. As usual, only a few of them would not be working late tonight. Will took out a piece of parchment and quietly scribbled a note on it, reading:

>_64. You?_

He slid it to Eve, who grinned maliciously at Will and scribbled something back.

_97. Do we need to start you on some quick-wit potion?_

Will sighed. He should have expected this from Eve. The girl started out so well, a troublemaker to the bone. But that blasted thing called "initiative" got her into Ravenclaw, where the bookish students roam free started to take its effect on her. She was still good for random unruliness, but now that she was applying herself in class she always had something to lord over him.

The rest of the lesson was uneventful. He didn't feel like communicating with anyone too much, so after class Will just left the sample of his potion on Prof. Slytherin's desk and wandered back to his dorm room. After slightly embarrassing Malcolm earlier, he was fully prepared to find a barfing rat in his pillow, but nothing seemed wrong. The little ferret has something nasty in mind, he thought.

* * *

It was very late, and Helga was very tired, but she had papers to grade for the next morning and a lengthy outing to plan for her group. She would be leading ten of the students deep into the eastern woods, past Centaur country for a working lesson. She was greatly looking forward to it, but these long nights spent in preparation were exhausting… there had been a lot of advances made in the art of Repelling Charms, and she had to set so many in the area appointed to her so that no one, not even the Centaurs or any wandering unicorns, could find their way onto the land. And because of the anti-apparition charms placed on all the Hogwarts ground, she had to hike almost down to the smattering of huts down the road just to Apparate to the place assigned to her team… it was tiresome business.

The door to the staff room opened and Godric stepped through, heaving a sigh and removing his cloak wearily. He looked to Helga and stumbled over to her, taking a seat on the opposite side of her long bench. "Good evening, Helga," he began. "Long night?"

"Of course," she replied, starting to gather her essays. She thought that she'd just finish the next morning; the students wouldn't notice. "They're all long nights from here until the end of this project of yours."

Gryffindor laughed. "Now, don't leave this whole thing on me," he said, leaning his arm on the back of the bench. Helga noticed this and moved slightly away from him, just to be safe. Salazar could have been anywhere, and he was a very jealous man.

"Well, you did suggest it, plan it, and do everything but these wretched charms for us." Helga continued, "Not that I'm upset or anything. It should be fun to be out in the field with the students, roughing it so to speak." She stood, picking up her papers. "Now please excuse me, it has been a long day."

Helga began to leave, but Godric stood and caught her arm. "Now, dear, it has been a long day, so why don't you relax and, say, join me for a-"

"Gryffindor," Salazar hissed from before his chamber door. "The lady, I believe, has tired of you, so let her be."

"This is nothing," Godric replied casually, "and even if it weren't it would be none of your concern. Helga, why don't-"

Turning to face him, Helga said hesitating, "Godric, seriously. I do not want to be in the middle of one of your unreasonable arguments." She rent her arm from his light grasp and strode back to her apartment. "Good evening, gentlemen." With that, she opened her door and disappeared through it daintily.

Salazar returned to his apartment also, raising the lamplight with a flick of his wand. He moved to one of the cupboards above his long, padded bench and searched through it, taking out a few small vials of pills. Three doses of various mixtures of pain-killers and a mistaken dose of hairball reducer later, Slytherin was starting to feel himself. He thought to venture into his wife's chambers-he thought that Gryffindor had probably left the staff lounge, and Helga was a rather "cuddly" sort. (That was her own name for the condition, not Salazar's, and he really tried not to think about it.)

He thought on it for a moment and decided to go to visit her, even if just to speak with her. No one in his past had ever had the ability to calm him as much as she did, and at this point he needed all the peace she could afford him. After being forced to take part in an idiotic field trip that would teach the students nothing but to be afraid of the outside world, Salazar was feeling particularly malicious toward his former friend.

He eased out of his robes and changed into more loose-fitting clothes (she always called them his Black Pajamas of Death, but Salazar never understood that) and slipped back out the door. Helga always left her front door unlocked in case of emergency, but it was a bit ajar and firelight was flickering out into the staff room. Salazar paused; he thought he could hear voices coming from inside.

Salazar slipped through the door quietly. There, with his back to Salazar was Godric Gryffindor. A wave of anger filled his throat, but he still cautiously moved into the room. Morbid curiosity had him captive.

"Please, Godric, just leave. I am not interested in spending an evening staying up talking, or whatever else you had in mind," Helga insisted, standing before Godric who was leaning against one of her long tables on the left side of the room. Helga was keeping her distance, standing in front of her bench before the fire.

Gryffindor spoke her name, smiling. He advanced toward her, extending his hand, and he said, "I am growing tired of this game."

"Godric-"

Gryffindor moved toward her very quickly, catching her off-guard and wrapping his arm around her waist. Helga tried to pull away from him, but his grip was surprisingly tight. "Please don't take my advances lightly, Helga. I see so much potential between us, if you will just give me a chance…"

This was too much for Slytherin. He paced across the floor, and showing more composure than he felt, he wrest his wife from Gryffindor's grasp. "If you please, Gryffindor," Salazar said again, "the lady has tired of your idiocy. Leave now."

"And who are you to command me? What I do is none of your concern, Slytherin," Godric replied coolly. "But I am sick of conducting my business with Miss Hufflepuff where you can interrupt, so I will take my leave. Good night, Helga," Gryffindor took his leave from the place, his red cape trailing overdramatically behind him.

Helga's eyes began to fill with tears as she looked to her husband, who was fuming. "I... gods, Salazar, that man is insufferable," she said, sniffing. Slytherin took her into his arms. The top of her head barely reached his shoulders, so he leaned over to kiss her forehead gently. He glanced at the door to be sure that maggot had closed the door behind him, and tipped her head back, kissing her gently. His lank hair was falling into her face, and as he pulled her tighter into his arms she slid her fingers through his hair.

He broke his hold and leaned over her closer, stifling her sobs against his shoulder. "I am sorry, Helga," Salazar whispered into her ear. He moved his arms to her waist and still held her close, waiting for some sign to move back. "I am so sorry. That man is... I should have been here."

"No, it isn't your fault, it's just..." Helga rested her cheek against his chest, her arms sliding down the rest on his forearms. "I just don't want to live this way."

"I don't even know any more. If he's going to take it this far, it doesn't seem worth it to-"

She sobbed into his shirt and he gently slid his hand up and down her back. He kissed her cheek and gently lead her into the chambers. 


	4. Chapter 04

A Revised History of Hogwarts

Chapter 4

"Wake up, Baddock!" James groaned, shoving Bernhard's shoulder. "We have to meet in the Great Hall in twenty minutes."

Bernhard rolled over and opened his curtains all the way, falling out of bed. James was walking out the door, and outside Bernhard heard some of the younger students walking by, murmuring about something.

He glanced out the window; it was foggy outside, and there was a layer of frost on the windowsill. Bernhard silently thanked the school for having glass windows instead of stretched-out fabric as his family had or oiled paper as did Durmstrang. The sun wasn't up yet, and the only light Bernhard had was the low glowing embers of the fire and a little beam of light from his wand.

Bernhard tossed on his clothes and ran his fingers through his recently washed hair; he'd heard that Helena would be in his group, and he wanted to make a good impression. He poured some water from his pitcher into the basin on his washstand and splashed some water on his face, then scrubbed off his arms with some harsh lye soap. Using the hem of his bed draperies as a towel, he heard James' voice call from the hallway, "Come on Bernhard. We've gotta go!"

Bernhard followed James out into the hallway in silence. The younger boy was very pushy, and Bernhard didn't really like that.

They were joined at the hall by a few of the younger Hufflepuff girls. Christina Neuenschweimer and Rowena Moody were chatting excitedly about some of the boys they knew would be in their groups. "I heard," said Christina excitedly, "that Lawrence Snowe is in my group!"

"_No_!" Rowena giggled. "He's the reason I would never miss a Potions class!"

"Who's in your group, Bernhard?" Christina asked the boy in a vain attempt to make him more social. She moved to walk beside him.

Bernhard looked at the girl a little reserved, then replied simply, "A couple of second years."

"Oh. Well that's... nice," Christina said brightly before turning back to her friend, who nudged her with her elbow. James just stared at Bernhard for a minute then looked away. He never thought he'd get to understand his roommate. Girls flocked to him, _probably because they think he needs mothering_, he sniffed; and yet, this guy was never willing to carry a conversation with anyone.

They reached the Great Hall and took seats at their house table, Bernhard as always claiming a seat far away from everyone else, but still close enough that he could clearly understand what Christina, Rowena and their friend from Ravenclaw named Willey were saying. He listed, very bored, to their inane chatter for a few minutes, munching on some fruit and milk on the table.

Finally all the students had arrived and had a little to eat, so Prof. Gryffindor stood at the head table, holding his hands up for silence. "I am pleased to see you all in high spirits," he orated to the still-whispering students. "For this day marks the first of what I hope will be many Field Days in the history of Hogwarts."

This was supposed to be an applause line, and Gryffindor smiled broadly out over the crowd of dazed children before continuing, "The school has been divided into six teams: _Dominus_, _Pilchre_, _Pacis_, _Sanctus_, _Vinco_ and _Militis_. Dominus will be headed-up by your History Professor, James Stout. If the following students will please step up to the front of the room: Monroe, Caitlyn!"

Caitlyn stood and slowly approached the Head Table where Prof. Stout was standing, smiling broadly out over the group. He tipped his hat to Caitlyn, and to all the other students who would be in his group.

Only two girls Bernhard knew were placed in Pilchre, lead by the librarian Francesca Combs, and he zoned out through Pacis and Sanctus.

Then his group came. Salazar Slytherin would be his group leader. "Bernhard Baddock," Slytherin took over the calling of his students, probably so that he wouldn't have to stand around looking foolish during the drawn-out process. Bernhard stumbled to the front and stood beside his teacher, feeling smaller and smaller beside the man.

"William Beck," said Slytherin. One of the third-year Slytherin boys strutted toward the head of the room, smiling deviously at Bernhard. He pushed his brown hair out of his eyes and sedately put his hands behind his back, making Bernhard very suspicious of him.

"Jason Croft." The alarmingly large Slytherin fourth-year came to the front of the room. He didn't look at Bernhard, though; actually, he rarely seemed to be looking at anything, he just stared off into space unless being given an order by Malcolm Malfoy.

"Bryn Luaithre." A slight second-year from Bernhard's own house stepped forward, looking a little scared. Eyeing Slytherin suspiciously, she stood near Bernhard, then she turned her suspicious looks to Will.

"I heard abo't him," the girl whispered to Bernhard. "He's got a way o' playin' tricks on people what no one catches."

Bernhard, who hadn't grown up speaking this Teutonic language (and apparently neither had Bryn), took a moment to figure out what the girl was trying to say. "I'll be careful," he replied.

"Evelyn MacMarrow."

Will smiled more broadly as the girl approached. Her dark red hair twisted with a black ribbon flowing behind her and a resolute look on her face, she stopped to stand beside Will who leaned over and whispered something into her ear. Evelyn snickered, which made a feeling of apprehension well up in Bernhard's throat.

"Helena Potter." Bernhard blushed as she stepped forward lightly, tiredness showing on her pale face. Her black hair was tied simply, and she had slung over her arm a brown cloak.

"Aodh Reiley." A little Hufflepuff second-year walked toward the front quietly, avoiding eye contact with anyone. She stood near Bryn, her brown eyes turned toward her feet.

No one else piqued Bernhard's interest; the group had a total of twelve students, and they were lead out of the Great Hall by a silent Prof. Slytherin. Bernhard walked out with Bryn and Marcus Vector, another second-year in Hufflepuff.

"So where a' you from?" Bryn asked Bernhard, whispering.

"A Norse canal town," Bernhard replied as he stepped down the large wooden stairs in front of the castle.

"Ah. I am from Oriel, neighboring the land of Meath."

"I'll ask for silence," Prof. Slytherin said to the group, stopping. "Come gather around; I'll not have any of you miss my instructions."

Bernhard was getting scared. Slytherin, although not a bad person overall, didn't particularly like working with students outside of class. He had a Class-Is-The-Only-Time-I-Want-To-Deal-With-You sort of mentality, which often made Bernhard wonder why he took up teaching, but no matter. Despite that, he was a decent teacher, and he did try to help every student excel, even if he didn't like most of them.

Slytherin cleared his throat, a clear sign to everyone that he wasn't in a good mood, and that they should be quiet. "Today I will be leading you north, into the mountains once inhabited by the Picts, to study some Dark creatures in their natural habitat."

There was murmuring all around the group. Everyone had come to expect something like this. "Won't this be _fun_!" Bryn giggled to Marcus and himself, but Bernhard was too distracted to notice.

A little ways away, William Beck and Evelyn MacMarrow were whispering to each other, and they would both occasionally glance back to Bernhard. Once Evelyn caught Bernhard's eye and she winked at him, making him all the more uneasy.

Prof. Fudge, a very small woman with long gray hair plaited and wound into a knot behind her head, was leading a small troupe of winged horses toward the group. Bernhard saw these horses and froze; would they be traveling on _these_? Visions of himself falling from far above the treetops, arms flailing madly while the other students laughed maliciously at his pathetic fate spun around in his mind.

"If you can ride a horse, you can ride a pegasus," Prof. Slytherin explained, puling out a pair of brown leather gloves from a pocket inside his cloak and slipping them onto his hands. "We have thirteen pegasus; one for each person," he continued, "and if I have to rescue any of you from the air, you will not like the consequences."

Bernhard swallowed. He looked at the horses; they weren't what he'd expected pegasus to look like. He'd heard stories of great, glowing beasts, like unicorns, flying gracefully and all that. But these were average Spanish horses, only with large wings tucked near their shoulder blades. All the students began to choose their Pegasus, and Bernhard picked out one which was white with big brown spots. All the mounts were equipped with saddles and reigns, like the horses his family had used to get him to Hogwarts.

Prof. Slytherin, having claimed a very large chestnut-colored mare, watched as his students fumbled onto the backs of these creatures. "Get your leg up, Weasley," he called to a little Gryffindor third-year girl. "Don't kick him so hard."

Laura Weasley looked back at Prof. Slytherin with some disdain, but she tried again and finally climbed up onto the big black stallion she'd chosen. She stood up straight and looked very regal for a moment, with her long blonde hair falling down her back, then she turned and made a face at one of the other Gryffindors her age.

"Everyone ready?" Slytherin called. Some students nodded assent, the others just stared blankly. The sun was just beginning to rise, and Bernhard found himself contemplating the purpose for leaving the grounds so early.

Slytherin leaned back on his reigns, and his horse leaned back along with him, unfolding her huge brown wings and gently lifting herself into the air. The other pegasus, apparently trained to trail her, followed suit. Bernhard's was one of the last to lift off, and he felt fear flood his brain again. He didn't dare look at the ground for fear that he would lean over too far and fall; instead, he focused on the point directly in front of him, which was Helena's pegasus' posterior.

Malcolm and Lucina rode their horses in silence. Since they had come back from summer holidays, they didn't have much to say to each other, which Malcolm found unnerving but Lucina thought was a refreshing change of page. Malcolm, despite his best efforts, was rather boorish, and though he was very bright he lacked imagination. Then, many people might say that about Lucina if they didn't know her.

Next to Malcolm, an eager little second-year Slytherin boy was chattering on about him home life. At least, that's what Malcolm thought he was talking about; his Cornish accent was too thick to understand more than two or three words in a sentence. At one point, he caught the words "goat milk soap."

And Lucina still wasn't talking to him. For three years they were inseparable, secretly studying all kinds of experimental magics from other parts of the world--Malcolm's family was fairly influential even in the Muggle world and was able to find whole books on ancient alchemy.

Professor Kharuma was leading them west into the grassy hills of western Strathclyde. There were a lot of sheep running around. Yes, Malcolm was truly impressed by the ability of this part of the world to be uncivilized. At one point they passed a group of Muggles picking through a field of barley. Malcolm had to restrain himself from hexing their field to attract locusts, not because Prof. Kharuma wouldn't appreciate it but because Lucina would tell him it was "unworthy" of him.

Off in the distance, Malcolm could hear a subdued moaning, like a ghost spreading its gloom across the land. Listening intently, he scanned the horizon for the source.

The other students had noticed it, too. "What do you suppose _that_ is?" a little second-year asked no one in particular. "It sounds like a demon!"

"That was the point," replied Lucina. "The druids years ago made giant harps and placed them across the moors of Erin and into the highlands of Alba and the other Pict lands to scare off the Romans. It backfired, though, and the Scot and Pict muggles thought they were demons or banshees.

"Then they found the harps and tried to pull them down. Only a few still survive after the Druids formed a campaign to cast Muggle-repelling spells on the artifacts." Lucina said all this without looking away from the empty space before her.

"Why are you not in Ravenclaw?" Malcolm asked her sardonically.

Several hours passed before Prof. Slytherin reported that the site was just below, and he began to guide his dark mount to descend slowly. Helena looked back toward Bernhard, who had a horrified look on his face.

"It's all right, Bernhard," Helena called to him. He glanced up to her, nodded, and closed his eyes. Luckily his pegasus seemed to simply follow the others, and in a few minutes everyone's feet were planted firmly on the ground.

Professor Slytherin ran a head-count, then dismissed everyone to their cabins. "You boys are to be in that hut," the professor said, pointing, "and the ladies will be in the cabin to my right."

All the boys complained. Their hut was a rather miserable-looking sod dome with a little crooked chimney sticking out of the middle, whereas the girls had a larger log cabin. Upon entry, the girls found that they had real, solid wood floors unlike the boys, and they each had their own little space in the cabin when the boys had tiny bunks.

It was a little past noon and Helena was growing rather hungry. She wandered outside to where Prof. Slytherin could be found, seated sedately on a log smoking a pipe.

"Professor," Helena began plainly, "we students are wondering what we'll be doing about our midday meal."

Slytherin looked at the girl and said, "We'll get there when everyone is settled. If you are so very hurried, you can help everyone gather quickly."

"Yes, sir," se replied quickly, turning away.

_She is going to be Gryffindor's prefect,_ Slytherin thought to himself. _She's like his own little prodigy. And clearly I could choose none other than Miss Snape--she is such a fussy girl she wouldn't stand anyone else. But what about Helga and Ravenclaw? No student of the prop--_

"P-professor," Bernhard Baddock interrupted Salazar's thoughts. Slytherin leered up to the ill-looking boy and said, "Yes, Mr. Baddock?"

"Sir, is--is there a, uhm, a stream, maybe, anywhere near here?" The boy looked shaken, probably from the ride over to this place.

"Yes, of course, just down that hill there is a spring about thirty of fourty cubits away," Slytherin replied. Bernhard nodded his thanks and dashed off very unceremoniously.

"We have here a stempler mushroom. Does anyone know another name for these?"

Lucina Snape's hand shot into the air.

Professor Nanak Kharuma. "Does anyone know _other_ that Miss Snape? No? Go ahead, Miss Snape."

"Another, more commonly-used name for the stempler mushroom is 'sourjuice mushroom,' due to the strange, sticky secretion it has which can be used to remove warts or as a taste reducer in some of the more revolting oral poisons."

"Well, Miss Snape," Prof. Kharuma commented, "maybe you should teach the lessons."

Lucina's eyes sparkled at the idea. "That would be silly, Professor," she replied, a smile playing on her lips for the first time in anyone's memory.

Nanak smiled weakly. "Well now, does anyone know how to properly prepare a sourjuice mushroom for the consumption of humans?"

The small group again was silent, except for the sound of Lucina Snape's arm swooshing through the air. The girl was either very eager to prove herself superior, or to irritate the skin off everyone within eighty cubits of her location.

After the lesson, about noon, Prof. Kharuma sent some of the older girls to get a trunk from his little personal cabin containing the group's provisions. He also sent a small group of the older boys out to bring lots of water to the center area from a little well she'd had dug weeks beforehand.

Things were moving pretty smoothly. Malcolm Malfoy, the one person he was most concerned about, hadn't done anything vile to any of the other students. Fortunate for Kharuma; he had things to accomplish which needed to be taken care-of while they were out here; he didn't have time to take any troublemakers back to the school.

One by one the tired students wandered into the general area where Slytherin was seated. He tried to talk quietly with some of them, although he seemed to scare off some of the younger students, particularly those not in his own house. _Perhaps I should try to disguise my dislike for most of them,_ he thought, _it seems they're all afraid to look at me._

William Beck was standing nearby, leaning against a tree with his eyes closed and arms folded over his chest. Salazar had learned that this was a dangerous stance for the boy to take; he was probably planning another evil attack on the more unstable students. Taking his pipe into his hand Salazar stood and approached the boy.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Beck," he spoke briefly. "I see your pegasus didn't throw you like she did last year."

"Yeah! She must've forgotten me," replied Will, grinning. "I still have the scars."

"And I the precious memory."

Will sniggered. Although the boy could be tricky, he never took anything personally. "So why are you, a respectable professor, mingling with the likes of me?"

"We need to keep an eye on the local criminal element," Salazar replied quickly.

Will smiled wider and glanced past Slytherin's arm. "It seems your audience has arrived," he said.

Slytherin turned to see the entire pack of students dozing on rocks near his own log lay, although none were brave enough to claim it from him. Salazar sighed and turned, taking a little puff from his pipe. He could tell already that it would be a long weekend.

Professor Slytherin took his seat again and said sharply, "Attention, students."

Some jumped awake; others were already alert, many of whom were slowly sipping water from their leather pouches. Bernhard was chugging his, so Slytherin snapped, "Slow down, Baddock, you'll make yourself sick."

"Too late, sir," Will chuckled, taking a seat beside Eve MacMarrow.

Slytherin ignored the boy. "I have an assignment for all of you this evening. Professor Gryffindor has suggested that we," he took a deep breath, "...conduct a scavenger hunt."

There was a collective moan in the crowd of students. "A scavenger hunt," Will cried, "like little Teutonic children looking for their Christmas pickle!"

The crowd quieted to stare at Will, not knowing what on Earth he was talking about, or feeling insulted because he'd slighted a cherished family tradition. "No, just me?" Will said more quietly. "Never mind, then."

"Please be quiet, Mr. Beck," Slytherin said sharply, pulling a small leather pouch from a concealed pocket inside his cloak. "So as to keep a level playing field, I have taken the liberty of dividing you into. Group one will include Bernhard Baddock, Oliver Spalding and Laura Weasley; group two will include..."

Bernhard looked around, trying to identify his team mates. Oliver Spalding was one of the younger Ravenclaw boys. He had short, sandy hair and a big nose and was sitting nervously next to a second-year girl.

Laura Weasley was a girl he'd noticed earlier. She was tall for her age, almost as tall as Bernhard himself, and had long curly blonde hair to her waist, although after a long time flying around in the wind her hair was rather knotted. Bernhard would have told her but she was rather intimidating. She never seemed to talk to anyone out of her house, which was fine because Bernhard rarely spoke to anyone at all, but there was something about her which made her seem somewhat pretentious.

Prof. Slytherin stood again before the students. "Now everyone, I'll give the oldest member of your team the list of goods and creatures you must find, and they will be the leader of your group. This game will last the rest of the trip, and the team which finds the most animals wins. And there is one last thing," he added. "I have arranged with Professor Fudge to give the first team to return with the items fifty extra points in Bestiary, the second team thirty and the third ten."

There was a collective sigh among the students. Will's joy lasted for just a moment, until he remembered who would be the oldest member of his team; Jason Croft. That kid had it out for Will. Not that he was completely undeserving, but the occasional embarrassment was hardly worth frequent, vehement threats of serious bodily harm! "You're dead, Beck," was one of the things he heard routinely in the morning over his eggs and porridge. And now Jason would be heading up his team working for fifty extra points in Will's worst subject... it was a blessing and a curse.

"Hey Beck!" Jason called Will over to him, with a stupidly vindictive look on his wide face. "I'm your team captain! What'd'ya think of _that_?"

Will frowned. "More than you ever will," he replied, trying to cloak the disgust in his voice. It obviously didn't work, because Jason stumbled over to Will threateningly.

"Whart's that supposed to mean, eh?" The larger boy grabbed Will's collar and held him upright, and the blood started to rush to Will's head.

_The idiot might actually try something,_ he thought gravely. He still looked composedly into Jason's eyes, trying to look as menacing as possible to the boy who was over twice his size. "Nothing at all," said Will.

Jason grinned at Will, his crooked yellowing teeth right in his face. "I know what we should do. We should go start that hunt."


End file.
